Two is Just as Bad as One
by Elerick
Summary: The sad personal story of two living through the infection, and with each other. Hunter x smoker friendship, 3 short chapters
1. Chapter 1

Two it Just as Bad as One

Hunter & Smoker Friendship

* * *

Ok, I was writing a smut fic with these guys but I during the paragraph summery of their meeting I decided I liked it so much I decided I wanted to write it. Two quick chapters coming up.

* * *

The frantic thud of uneven feet on concrete.

A shrill wail from a car alarm.

The smoke of some far off unattended fire.

The smell of bodies rotting in the streets.

Black and red lingered together as it leeched slowly into the sewer grates.

It was a mess, the city was a mess, to every sense, in every way. Something was always moving in the smog, someone was always screaming, something was always killing. He hated it down here.

But there was food, he could either die quickly in a burst of violence, or slowly from starvation where it was safe.

It was the worst near the highway, where the streets had clotted in the race to escape the infection. The roads only led to a deathtrap, drivers fodder for the oncoming hoards. Now the empty cars lined the lanes as far as he could see.

Grave stones.

But they made perfect cover. Slinking from car to car he made his way down the streets. There was plenty to hide from, the poor souls who the infection ate holes away in their brains, the larger mutants who were too crazed to decide what they wanted to destroy first, but worse of all were-

"SMOKER!"

He ducked just before a gunshot broke the windshield above his head.

The immune survivors.

Shit…

Smoker, that's what they called him. It made sense, it also made sense that they would shoot, most who fell to the infection weren't exactly friendly any more. But sense didn't help him in this situation.

Sliding over the hood of an abandoned car he shrunk behind the door, hopping they'd get distracted by something else and leave him alone.

"TANK!"

Not the best thing to hope for.

The next instant his cover was lifted above his head, leaving him exposed to the hauntingly empty eyes of a huge infected. A stray bullet knocked the looming behemoth upside the head but he didn't flinch. Large hands flung the neglected car through the air at the survivors, letting loose an explosion of guns and screams.

Taking advantage of the chaos he ran, ducking into a nearby ally, it stunk of rotting flesh and urine but it was better then what was outside. The fight was muted to his stinging ears by the bricks and garbage.

In the silence he heard something else.

Words, mumbles, someone was talking, not screaming or growling, talking.

What the hell?

His steps were cautious, though with the occasion hacking he couldn't help emitting it felt rather ridiculous to sneak. Behind a dumpster he found the source of the noise.

Curled up against the side he found a person, a kid, his shivers were reverberating in the metal. He was talking to himself, franticly, trying to convince himself everything was alright. Shaking hands wrapped something long and silver around his face, the fingers were red with blood. He was so lost in his own messed up world he didn't notice the other until he was on his knees in front of him.

The smoker backed away when the smaller infected's head suddenly shot up. A single eye stared into his own, the pupil was a painful looking red, surrounded by a smoky black where white should be, the other was covered in a crude sling of duct tape that wrapped around the right side of his head, stray white tuffs of bleached, once spiked hair and dark crimson blood seeping out from under it. But it wasn't the pathetic scene wasn't what frightened him, it was the look in that one eye, he knew it well, that's what they all looked like when the lost they're humanity.

When they attacked.

"This is YOUR FAULT!" he screeched, his voice breaking like a teen in puberty turning into wolfman. He lunged with a fierceness the smoker didn't expect from someone so small. Black claws sank into his shoulder before he could scramble out of the way. The smaller one tumbled awkwardly, smacking against a wall rather than his target. A low rumble of a growl lingered in the air before his body stopped moving. A small puddle of blood was slowly spreading under his face, too much blood loss, he had no energy left to fight.

The smoker hissed at the wound his own curiosity had earned him, absently licking at it with a tongue that had grown from the tumors on his back. Here he thought he'd finally found someone left with sense around here. Well the pipsqueak had been talking, maybe he wasn't entirely wrong. But why was he hostile?... what did he mean 'your fault'?

It didn't matter. Within the next split second another car hurtled through the alley. He managed to duck and cover over the smaller one but a loud explosion told him the other wouldn't be safe here for very long.

Where was his humanity if he just left him here to die?

With a groan his hoisted him up on his shoulder, not sure if he was thankful or annoyed he was still breathing, and slunk down the alleyway. If he was trouble he could always just tie him up when he got home.

No food but a new friend, at least the trip wasn't a total waste of time.

* * *

As soon as the infection hit there was a mass exodus from uptown and the hills were now full of empty luxury houses. It was far from sources of food and supplies but it was safe, the monsters downtown rarely made it this far and there weren't enough free weapons to sustain the immune.

The smoker had chosen a house with solar panels so he had at least a chance at electricity. He managed to lug the dead weight to the living room where he slung the smaller infected on the couch. It was a while before he caught his breath and managed to get a better look at the other.

By dark claws and darkened eye he figured this was the one the survivors called a hunter. He could tell by his roots that his pale hair was once blonde but the infection drained the color and the remnants of hair gel said it was once spiked. He wore a black stained, hoodie with a white design around the hood and pockets that looked like teeth, probably to match the spiked collar that hung loosely around his thin neck.

The thing that was the most noticeable was the duct tape still wrapped painfully around his head. His right eye must have begun to fall out, it was a symptom of his types… mutation, the other was going to fallow soon. The whole thing must have frightened him, he hadn't been thinking straight. With a cautious hand he reached to remove one of the blood stained roles.

And received a chomp on the hand for his efforts.

"SHIT!" his hand flew back, soon followed by the rest of him, sending him with a thunk to the floor.

"Who the fuck are you!"

No, don't ask if I'm okay, he thought as dragged himself back up.

"Chill, Dude, you were in an alley and-"

"Get the hell away from me freak!" he began scrambling back on the couch, scratching into the expensive leather with his claws. "You're contagious! Don't touch me!"

"Contagious? You're already infected, haven't you no-"

"SHUT UP! I'M NOT! I'M NOT A FREAK LIKE YOU!" he clutched his hands to his head, "Th-they don't understand… it's a cold, it's just a cold."

The hunter started mumbling again, curling as tight as he could into himself, trying to make the world go away.

"Hey, hey." He began to reach out but after what happened last time comforting him probably wasn't too safe on his part. If he was in denial there wasn't much he could do in the first place. "Look, you're safe here, just… take some time to calm down. I'll be upstairs if you… yeah."

He felt guilty leaving him alone, backing away, watching to make sure the other didn't try anything rash. Maybe he just needed some time.

And there was an Xbox upstairs, that would pass some time.


	2. Chapter 2

Two is just as bad as one

Part two

Hunter and Smoker Friendship

* * *

I like this chapter because it shows more of the hunter's personality after you've felt all sorry for him and they start picking at each other which I love to make them do. Boys are so cute.

* * *

After the infection took over the city there were no more classes to be late to and no work to miss, just day in and day out of boredom interrupted by the occasional frantic race to live.

Which was why the smoker didn't appreciate a new alarm clock slamming him in the forehead.

"Hey! Freak!"

Another smack, he rolled over with a grumble and opened his good eye; the hunter had been chucking his shoes at him from across the room. Seems he didn't even have the manners to touch him even with a ten foot pole.

"Wake up!"

He sat up quickly, the hunter was starting to reach for other available objects.

To think he felt sorry for him.

"What is it?" his growl was cut off by a hacking cough, it was too early for this.

"I'm hungry." The other's arms were crossed across his chest, as if it was the smoker who had done something wrong.

Well he hadn't managed to get any food yesterday, but that wasn't the point.

"And?"

"You're one of those freaks! Go down to the store and get me some! They won't attack something as ugly as they are. I don't eat people either, if you're getting any weird ideas in your head. Hurry up."

Apparently finished he turned and went back down the stairs, just like that. The smoker let out a deep, shaky breath, he'd brought a yappy spoiled pup into his safe house.

"Hey!" he trailed after him, it was obvious his attention wasn't wanted. "Hey, kid!"

It wasn't until he managed to grab him by the shoulder that he actually got is attention, if flinching so violently he almost mistook it for a seizure counted as attention.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME FREAK!" He took a swing but his short arms missed. The smoker managed to catch the limb with one of his tongues, tugging the smaller one off balance and sending him to the floor. He was about to let out on the little brat but the hunter… he looked so damn scared.

He was too pathetic to even yell at.

With sigh he regained his composer, he was sort of towering over him on the floor there so he leaned down to eye level. That's how you're supposed to deal with children, right?

"First off my name is not 'freak', so let's end that right here and now, k'? I'm Desmond, what's your name?"

All he got was a weak growl.

"Ok… later then. Right now, I'm the one who bought you to safety, you leave if you want but if you stay here, if you want something to eat, you're going to have to help me get it."

"You didn't save me, you took me!" the little one suddenly started spouting again, climbing to his feet with unnecessary bravery. "I'll have you arrested for kidnapping!"

"What?"

"You heard me! I bet you just brought me here to fatten me up so you could EAT ME!"

"…What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just you WAIT until my family comes back to REALLY save me! When you see a limo pulling up in that driveway you're going to bet a gut full of government issued LEAD! My Dad's a senator and he'd going to be pissed if you lay a single one of those mutant tongues on-"

"AGH! Forget it!" Desmond shoved him back to the floor, hard, the hardwood complained with a creak. He was too sleepy and too hungry to take another high pitched word from his mouth and that, if nothing else, shut him up. "I'm going out to get something to eat, either shut the hell up or get your ass out of my house by the time I get beck or I'm throwing you out myself."

"Y-y…" though the hunter was still practically foaming at the mouth, the act of aggression seemed to stun so much the smoker might as well have shoved a tongue down his pants and his eyes wouldn't have been wider… was he shaking? "Y-you wouldn't do that! You'd…. you'd loose your dinner! O-or worse!"

"Screw it…" he turned with a huff and started towards the door, by the pitter patter he could tell the hunter was behind him. For someone who hated him so much he sure wanted to stay close, maybe he didn't like to be alone.

"Cause there's zombies everywhere you're gonna RAPE me! I know you rednecks out here like to do that kind of shit!"

Rednecks? He lived in the suburbs. "If that's so then why are you following me?" That stopped him in his tracks. "Unless you're that horny."

"S-S-Shut up! I wouldn't touch you with a-OW!"

For a hunter he was clumsy and easily distracted. The smoker had managed to close the door literally on his face. Outside he could hear "Shit, shit, shit!" from behind the wood.

Desmond let out a sigh, never had he felt HAPPY to head down to that hell hole of a city, the infected air was almost refreshing. This is what you got for being nice after the apocalypse, he should have listened to his video games and looked out for himself.

When he got down the street he couldn't help but look back. That kid was a spoiled little brat of a thing, he wouldn't survive five minuets outside, that's probably why he stopped following him but….

For some reason he felt a chuckle bubble up, leaching out smoke behind him. It turned into to a laugh and soon he was holding his stomach, trying not to fall over.

"Eat him… Rape him, HA! He looked so freaken' scared!"

He wasn't sure why he found it so funny exactly. That little runt would be fun to pick on, he was so proud but it was like a mouse standing up to a cat, he'd nip and bit until the cat fought back, then his ran his little tail away.

"He's so fail…" but would this form entertainment be worth keeping around?... there wasn't any TV?

Maybe he was just delirious from hunger, he'd get something to eat and think about it then.

* * *

Since the local wildlife of violence crazed zombies preferred to feast on whatever happen to be running from them at the time, humans, animals, he'd seen some chewing on cars, food was not a scarce thing… if you were willing to make the trip and knew where to look.

Some of the stores were still salvageable but most had been cleaned out by the fleeing citizens. Desmond knew this from experience and didn't give them a second thought. He was heading for the highways, the beached cars still held treasure troves of caned goods and snack foods, all pumped with so much preservatives they'd last years. The driver's weren't going to need them any more.

The smoker hopped from car to car, climbing over wrecks and pileups with all the empathy of someone on a hiking trail, tossing the occasional can or bag into his backpack. Once he got through the bulk of the city, away from the apartment deathtraps and dangerous streets things were calmer.

At the end of one of the roads was an airport. The smoker took the chance to rest, highways seemed a lot longer on foot. The planes all looked like toys, lying half hazardly by some kid who forgot to clean up after himself. Some had never had a chance to leave, the parking lot was full, vehicles tilted as they perched on the grass and landscaping. Other littered the runways, some tiled on their sides, probably by angry escapees.

It had been a long, long time since he'd felt any sympathy for the former residents of his little zombie ghost town. What was the point of feeling sorry for someone who wasn't there anymore, for something that could be running around crazed in that city trying to kill him? So usually he didn't pay any mind to the strewn personal possessions around him, until something caught the corner of his eye, something moving.

Usually something moving put him on alert but he realized it was far too small and headed over with more curiosity then fear. It was a flag, a tiny flag on the antenna of an overturned limo. A lifeless hand was sticking out from under the wreckage. There was melted metal, frozen in contorted designs all along the passenger side. Who ever had been in there was probably long dead, but that wasn't what caught his attention, the flags were that of the state…

Hadn't the kid said his father was a senator?

* * *

I decided this would be a good place to leave off and make this into a 3 parter, since it would take to long to wrap this up in the same chapter


	3. Chapter 3

Two is just as bad as one

Part 3

Hunter and smoker friendship

* * *

Its not the best thing I've ever written but I like this story and I'm glad I've finally wrapped it up. Now I can get back to the sequel to these two having sex... so they can do it some more

* * *

Desmond took his time getting home.

It wasn't the best idea, considering when it got dark it got dangerous, but he had things to think about.

Those people crushed under that limo were the only hope that kid had left, the hope that they would carry his little spoiled ass to safety and turn him back into the golden human brat he once was.

Even though it was his parents where the one who left him behind in the first place…

They were probably bigger pricks then he was.

Still, no one deserved to lose their parents, or their hope.

Even him.

The kid would be home waiting, and without the truth he'd be waiting forever.

Damn, he felt so alone, and he hadn't even lost anyone.

He was lucky, nothing took a shot or a chomp at him through the city, but it didn't to cheer him up. If anything the front door came up too early.

To be or not to be...

The only thing reading hamlet ever taught him was procrastinating just got everyone killed in the end.

With a sigh he pushed it open.

The house was quiet, but it was always quiet. If the kid was there his sounds were probably lost in the vast square-footage.. The smoker set his gathered groceries on the kitchen table, they wouldn't spoil anytime soon.

He was tempted to call, but that was a bit too domestic for his tastes, and would probably scare the him away. The hunter was almost certainly somewhere in the building, too scared to leave the house.

As he scaled the stairs he began to hear shuffling and the occasional mumble. It was coming from the same room where he had been was so rudely awakened.

He began to soften his steps, no reason to surprise him.

And no excuse not to snoop.

The door opened quietly on well oiled, expensive hinges. Peaking in he spotted the little roamer knocking back and forth around the room, touching everything within reach like a curious baby, and just as clumsy.

The hunter flipped through the comic books he had picked up on some of his trips, occasionally ripping one of the covers and nervously shoving it to the bottom of the pile. He picked up the controllers to his game systems, pressing a few buttons before tossing them back down and ruffling through his games. Every time he found something interesting he'd huff and make some comment under his breath, the smoker heard "nerd" and "geek" more than once, as well as the occasional "pervert".

Funny... he didn't keep anything dirty out there...

Then the hunter decided it would be a good idea to yank a book out from the bottom of his stash of pilfered literature, not taking into account that the mess was almost as tall as he was. He gave out a dog like yelp when it all came tumbling down.

The smoker couldn't help but laugh.

"Who-who's there?"

The poor thing probably couldn't see buried under all those books.

"Hang on." nabbing a loose hand sticking out from the mess he gave it a quick tug and out the other popped, black framed red eye staring up at him with surprise.

That is until he recognized who it was and snatched his hand away.

God forbid he expects a thank you.

"You alright?"

The smaller one only huffed, adjusting the hoodie that had been ruffled when he was crushed, pulling the hood tight over his head.

Something was different about him, the way he turned when the other looked at him, how he hid his face.

What had changed?

"Did... did you bring food?"

"Uh... yeah, it's in the kitchen." he gestured with a jab of his thumb.

The hunter walked silently, as if he were trying to retain as much dignity as possible, too bad he lost it all when he was defeated by a pile of books.

The kid dug around in the bags until he found something that was to his liking, a can the smoker didn't catch the name of. He stared at it, put it at different angles, gnawed on it for a bit, until finally slamming it down on the table.

"Open it." he demanded.

With a sigh the smoker took out a swiss army knife and opened the damn thing. If it would get him to shut up...

But the hunter still seemed to be at a loss. Again he tilted it, looking for something, but just ended up spilling the contents on himself. With a frustrated growl he threw the offending can on the table.

What the... the kid couldn't even feed himself.

"I envy whatever life you led..." the smoker commented with a roll of his eyes and grabbed the food, pouring it into a pan and turning on the flame.

"What do you know." he flopped down at the table, crossing his arms. There wasn't much energy in his movements, maybe all that thrashing and throwing things wore him out.

The room was quiet except for the soft bubble on the stove.

"Something wrong?" things hadn't been this calm since he first brought him here.

Still there was silence and the smoker gave up.

"... I saw myself."

"...oh?" uh oh.

"In the mirror in the bathroom... I saw myself."

What do you say to something like that? I told you so? Probably not in the best taste.

"I looked almost as freaky as you."

"...Gee, thanks." Well never mind...

"So I guess I really am 'infected' or whatever. It's not too bad as what's on the news." he didn't even seem to notice he'd insulted him, or maybe he just didn't care. "But... I probably can't go back like this, not until they find a cure or some shit like that."

He spoke like they were just chatting about the weather but he could see the slight tremble in his balled fists. Those black eyes seemed red around the edges, had he been crying earlier?

Crying all alone in an empty house after catching site of yourself in a mirror.

That had to be one of the saddest things he'd ever heard.

That and his parents...

Shit, he always hated character drama in games, he didn't need it in real life.

"That's why, from now on, you're going to take care of me."

…..

…...

"Excuse me?"

"You need to get food more often, and none of that healthy hippie shit, I need some magazines, you don't wake me unless I tell you to, which you I won't, you-"

"I said you could STAY here, I didn't say I'd take care of you."

The hunter really didn't seem to understand (or didn't care again) the words that were coming out of the others mouth. "You kidnapped me, you're responsible." Crossed feet perched on the table as he leaned back, his tennis shoes looked expensive. "So you'd better get used to it."

"I didn't-uh, never mind…" why did good deeds have to bite him in the ass, though that's probably what you should expect with a hunter anyway, a nice big chunk off your ass getting torn off.

"Look." The smoker threw the bowl on the table, spraying the nearly molten liquid on his companion, who hissed and licked it off indignantly. "This is the apocalypse, a zombie apocalypse one top of that? Haven't you ever played a freaken' video game. No one takes care of you, they kill you, they eat your brains for cryin' out loud."

That managed to get the point through well enough, the others face had dropped from its high and mighty smirk, now he just seemed angry.

"Now I'm willing to HELP you… For a while… but you're going to have to take care of your own ass or you're not going to last the first survivor who make it up this way."

"Survivor? You mean non-freaks, I'll just talk to them, jeezus." He crossed his arms as if he knew all.

"They're more of the shoot now and ask questions later type. Not to mention if something else gets in here, guys as big as a house, chicks with razors for hands, you won't believe what I've seen out there." The smoker smiled. "I'm one of the nice ones."

Unsure how to respond, the hunter just sunk down in his seat, pouting, growling, like some little kid who didn't get his way. At least that his whining for the moment.

Then there was a clack, the table was vibrating under the bowl.

Though he was trying pretty damn hard to surpass it, the little one was shaking. He had his lip clenched tightly between his teeth, cutting the skin.

Shit, he'd gone too far.

The smoker sat down, holding the hunter wasn't exactly an option, he'd get bitten or yapped at again, and kind, soothing words would just make him mad.

Time for a man to man talk.

"Hey… I don't want to be your butler, or your baby sitter-"

"I don't need a fucking baby sitter." The other hissed.

"Right, but in a mess like this, it's probably good to have a friend right?"

That one, black framed red eye looked up at him. For a moment he really did look like a scared little kid, lost and confused. No one was coming to rescue him, no one was left to care for him, he couldn't help feeling just a little, tiny bit parental towards him.

"Fag."

Why hadn't he learned his lesson by now?

But the kid laughed, that was the first time he'd seen him even smile since he carried him back here. It was a nice improvement.

"It's not like I have a choice do I? I've got nowhere else to go at the moment."

"What a nice foundation of a friendship." The smoker let a puff of mist out from the corner of his mouth. "Let's try this again," he held out his hand. "I'm Desmond."

It took a few moments but eventually the other to the gesture. "Frisk."

Desmond cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Eh, whatever. Fisk. I've doubt you've eaten since all this started, so chow down." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the bag of supplies he'd rounded up and popped out a shaft and took between his lips.

"Oh great. Don't tell me you smoke too?"

For some reason he smiled. "This sounds like the start of a horrible friendship."


End file.
